The use of the word "Man"
Eric Burkett
For years now, I have had trouble with the word 'man'. Not in the universal
sense (as in 'the family of man'), but as a personal application. I was brought
up to believe that females were entitled to the use of the workd "woman",
that it was a right of females. The word conjures up very strong images,
nice positive images (My mother, Shirley Chisholm, my godmother, Sue- my
leather/motorcycle/dyke political buddy back in ARkansas, Stevie Smith, Janet
from Saskatoon, Blanche McCrary Boyd, Governor Kunin), and by calling a woman
a woman, I am acknowlediging her sense of self and dignity. Honoring her you
might even say.
I am a male (a word that is hotly sexual to me "ALL MALE ACTION!"), but at 23
years of age, I find myself reluctant to use the word "man" when thinking or
referring to myself. For some reason, for me, "man" is a title earned by men.
I don't consider myself a boy (although sexually, I'll happily, and quickly,
respond to it when called). "Youth" is silly, and "young adult" sounds like a
member of a church group. I enjoy being male; I enjoy male sexuality, emotion,
sensuality. I respond very easily to hyper male imagery (Tom of Finland,
"Dungeons of Europe", the rough soldier, cowboys). I love men. Men who have
earned the right to call themselves men are my father (who pretty much fulfills
most of my masculine ideals), my lover (who fulfills that and other things),
Ronnie at the bar (Does a mean Carmen Miranda) and also at the bar that guy
who's become so striking since allowing his sense of androgony to win over and
probably takes a lot of shit on the street for it too) Harvey Milk, my uncle Art
who raised my mother when my grandfather died, Tim Barrus (for having tyhe balls
to post that silly ad in the classifieds of Drummer and for having written "Life
Sucks, or Hemingway never slept here"). Being a man isn't bein ng sure of one's
self, but being comforatable with one's self, and more too, I guess, but now I'm
backing myself into a corner.
How does it feel to be a man? What is a man? Surely I'm not the only one
who;'s placed the term beyond my reach?
Sorry about this, but all the postings concerning wimmin/women/myn brought all
this up again. Why does one consider one's self to me a man? What did it take
to convince you that you were finally one yourlself? Did you shave for the
first time? Did you pop your cherry with that hot little cheerleader back in
high school without cumming too soon? Are you in touch with the child within?
Are you hung? A good father? You can smash beercans against your forehead with
out kncokcing youself out?
Why are you a man? When will you become one? What will or did it take?
later, Eric Burkett
ryerson.schwark
>Being a man isn't being sure of one's
>self, but being comforatable with one's self, and more too,
>I guess, but now I'm backing myself into a corner.
>
>How does it feel to be a man? What is a man? Surely I'm not the only one
>who's placed the term beyond my reach?
A bit of a loaded statement there Eric "placed the term beyond your
reach". Perhaps you think that being a "man" is about "being", and
you're busy "becoming", but you see you never stop becoming until
you are dead, and I don't think that's the masculine ideal(though
some days I do wonder...). So, I think you have to spend the time
realizing you "are" even if you're also "becoming". Have I confused
you already? wait, there's more. I don't really think of myself as
a man, though I'm a male a number of years past puberty. I think
of myself as a Fairie (or for those who prefer politer phraseology,
a gay man). This in my mind makes me man, and more than man.
Elitist of me, I know, but I think walking a path between Man/Woman
is a peculiar and powerful trail. Now to turn this back to my
previous point, I know that I am very busy "becoming" which is
a very good thing, but I also most assuredly "am", which is also
a very good thing, because everytime I get so busy becoming that
I forget to be, I eventually realize that I'm on a treadmill going
nowhere because I can't get to "there" if I can't leave "here".
Or in short, you have to say "I am" before you can say "I am a
<whatever>".
Ry Schwark
r...@attunix.att.com
"Some day I'll dance among the stars and shower burning desire
among the clouds, but today I dance upon the earth and feel its
mud between my toes and the wind blow through my soul."
Harry Ugol
>In article <1990Mar6.0...@banzai.PCC.COM> er...@banzai.PCC.COM (Eric Burkett) writes:
>>Being a man isn't being sure of one's
>>self, but being comforatable with one's self, and more too,
>>I guess, but now I'm backing myself into a corner.
>>
>>How does it feel to be a man? What is a man? Surely I'm not the only one
>>who's placed the term beyond my reach?
>
>A bit of a loaded statement there Eric "placed the term beyond your
>reach". Perhaps you think that being a "man" is about "being", and
>you're busy "becoming", but you see you never stop becoming until
>you are dead, and I don't think that's the masculine ideal(though
>some days I do wonder...). So, I think you have to spend the time
>realizing you "are" even if you're also "becoming". Have I confused
>you already? wait, there's more. I don't really think of myself as
>a man, though I'm a male a number of years past puberty. I think
>of myself as a Fairie (or for those who prefer politer phraseology,
>a gay man). This in my mind makes me man, and more than man.
Actually, I prefer {F,f}a{e,i}r{ie,y} to "gay man" (although actually
I think the two terms address different concepts). But then again,
I'm not necessarily polite, at least not when I'm possessed by the God
- see below.
Ry love, I understand that what you have written is right and true for
you, but I think Eric's experience might possibly be closer to my own,
and to me his questions are real and have meaning.
I have a feeling I've told this story here before, but if so it must
have been long ago, and I'm sure Eric in particular hasn't heard it.
I first learned about the group called the Radical Faeries in 1983,
and attended my first fairy gathering shortly after moving to
California in 1984. That first night, I helped cook dinner and clean
up, all the while quietly watching this group of men and wondering
exactly who they were and what they were about. While I was helping
clean up, someone said there was to be dancing in the lodge (this was
Thanksgiving weekend, and we were in the middle of a rain-soaked
encampment in the Mendocino redwoods), and after finishing up, I went
down to check it out. I was expecting something resembling my
previous experiences with gay male dancing (currently called DFS).
Entering that lodge gave me one of the shocks of my life; I can still
remember it. In a room lit only by a fireplace and a few candles,
there were men dressed in everything from high drag to jeans and shirt
to nothing at all, jumping and weaving like savages, while others made
primitive rhythms on drums, tambourines, bells... (and *no* melodic
instruments). There was a feeling in the air of savage power that was
like a blow straight to the nose; I remember thinking I had been told
there would be fairies, but no one had told me Dionysius would be
there too. My Apollonian nature was, as I've said already, profoundly
shocked, and I spent the night, and most of the gathering, watching on
the sidelines and wishing I had the courage to stand up and join that
group of magicians, to stand out.
The following year, at my second fairy gathering, I found out about
the Celtic deities that so many fairies believe in, about the Goddess
who is, and brings forth, the fruit of the earth, and the Horned God
who is her consort, who dies each Samhain (a/k/a Halloween) and is
reborn each Spring. I connected immediately with the Goddess - to my
mind, it's pretty hard not to connect with the Goddess when you can
see her work on every hill - but the God remained only an intellectual
concept.
Life continued as it does, one step at a time, and in the summer of
1988, I found myself at another fairy gathering (one of the reasons I
love gatherings is the opportunities they provide for transformation
and healing in a safe and loving space) in a pine grove being
initiated into SM. I was bound to a table, and the man who later
became my Master sacrificed me to the God of the Underworld; the God I
met in the Underworld, and the depths of my soul, however, was the
Horned God. He reached out his hand, and I took it, and we went
walking down the paths of his land. While we were there, I remembered
that night in Mendocino, and the dancing, and I realized that, in the
words of Pogo, "we has met the enemy, and they is us."
That night, which I will remember always, I stopped being afraid of
the part of me which is the God, male and powerful and noble and
strong and loving, full of tenderness for small things, sufficient
unto himself without needing the approval of others. I also found my
fairy name (or perhaps vice versa); it was much longer in coming to me
than is usual among the fairies, but it was very much worth the wait.
The following day, and in the years afterwards, I spent time wearing
the God's face and feeling his eyes look out my own into the eyes of
my fellow travellers, who saw, and smiled.
I don't say my experience is right for everyone; in particular, I
don't say it's right for Eric or Ry. But it was right for me, and
somehow I think Eric and Ry may both appreciate it. And I do think it
gives one person's answer to Eric's questions.
>
>
>Ry Schwark
>r...@attunix.att.com
>"Some day I'll dance among the stars and shower burning desire
>among the clouds, but today I dance upon the earth and feel its
>mud between my toes and the wind blow through my soul."
Beautiful.
Harry Ugol, a/k/a Dancer Redflower
UUCP: {backbone}!sun!warpten!harryu
ARPA: har...@Ebay.sun.com
"Rivendell household rule #1 (taken from Mark Twain): If you can't
stand solitude, perhaps you bore others too."